Beneath the Scars (Masters of the Shadowlands #13)(16)

Edward snorted. “That bottle ain’t shit, you heathen.”

Ignoring him, Holt continued, “If a member brings in a bottle, it gets labeled and kept only for them in this section.”

Josie stared at the bottles in dismay. She’d given someone a drink from another member’s bottle. A very expensive bottle. But…wait a minute. Her jaw clenched. “Does this mean if a member specifically requests a drink from a bottle kept in the private section, I should only pour if their name is the name on the bottle?”

“You didn’t pick my bottle at random?” Edward’s brows drew together.

“No. The lady asked for the Balvenie 21, specifically.” Josie motioned toward the blonde who had taken a seat in the area for unattached submissives. “She directed me to the private stock shelves.”

Both Doms turned. In the nearby sitting area, the blonde and her two friends stiffened when they realized they were being watched.

“I’m getting the impression you’re not friends with Amber?” Edward asked.

“Aside from the owner, Master Holt is the only person I know here.”

“Fuck. I jumped before checking the lay of the land.” Edward scowled. “Sorry.”

Holt stepped out from behind the bar, eyed the women, and crooked his finger. Come here.

Considering the stern set of Holt’s jaw, Josie wasn’t surprised when the three hurried over.

Holt leveled a hard stare at the blonde. “I hear you asked the bartender for Edward’s Balvenie and pointed her toward his bottle.”

Amber gave a shocked gasp and glared at Josie. “I did not. You’re lying. You just grabbed—”

“Oh honestly, Amber.” Down the bar, the redhead in the golden bustier turned. “Sure looks like the hamster is running, but the wheel isn’t spinning.”

Amber scowled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean if you’re going to steal something, first check for witnesses. I heard you ask for the Balvenie 21. So did Master Marcus.”

The blonde turned red, and then she cast a timid look at the guy in the suit—Master Marcus—who wore a gold armband.

Another Master. How many of them were there?

Master Marcus’s slow Southern accent didn’t lessen the firmness of his voice as he said, “Gabrielle is correct, Amber. I do believe you’ve gotten yourself into a heap of trouble.”

He turned his attention to Holt. “You got yourself back here just in time to deal with this mess. I am most appreciative.”

Josie caught the subtext—the other Master was dumping everything in Holt’s lap.

Holt gave him a sour look. “Thanks, Marcus.”

“Welcome back.” Smiling, Master Marcus returned to talking with his redhead.

With an almost unheard sigh, Holt—Master Holt—turned back to the women. Ignoring Amber, he looked from the redhead to the brunette, his intense regard making them fidget uncomfortably.

After a long moment, he spoke. “You two didn’t stop your friend. You didn’t speak up when she lied to get the bartender in trouble. I’m displeased with such behavior from Shadowland submissives.”

Both women wilted.

The redhead whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“As am I. Many Doms enjoy a bit of brattiness; however, none condone dishonesty…or theft.” His smooth voice had acquired an edge that could cut.

The two women flinched.

His tone softened. “Do you remember your first night in the Shadowlands?”

They nodded.

“Pretty scary, wasn’t it?”

More nods.

“Put yourself in the bartender’s shoes for a moment. Imagine it’s your first night here on the job in this strange place.” As Holt talked, the women looked at Josie, comprehension growing in their expressions. “You’re nervous, trying to do your best.” He paused…then added in a slow, disapproving voice, “Then a customer scams you and lands you in so much trouble, you could get fired. And the customer’s friends think it’s funny.”

The redhead dissolved into tears.

“Oh, God, we did.” The brunette closed her eyes for a second. Then, looking Josie straight in the face, she said softly. “I’m very sorry, ma’am. I was wrong. Is there a way I can make this right?”

The redhead nodded desperately.

“Ah…” Josie glanced at Holt.

“That sounds more like submissives who belong here.” Holt gestured toward the bar. “Since it’s tough to keep up with the drink demands, you two can help her out. For the next half hour, you pour beer, water, sodas, and clean up. Do anything she asks you to do.”

More nods.

Holt added quietly, “If a Dominant asks why you’re behind the bar, explain…completely.”

The women winced at the thought of confessing, then ducked under the pass-through and waited for orders.

Oh…boy. Josie considered for a second before handing them bar rags. “Can you pick up the empties and wipe down the bar?” There wasn’t much to do, since she tidied as she worked, but this…awkward interlude…had put her behind.

“Yes, ma’am,” the redhead whispered.

“Right away, ma’am.” The brunette was younger, maybe twenty-three, and her hands trembled with her relief.